


Mischief's Mistress

by Thaliona



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Forbidden Love, Loki Is Also Sometimes A Woman, Loki Learns Magic, Loki Prefers Older Women, Midgard Norse Era Adventures, Multi, Pre-Thor (2011), Slow Burn, Teenage Infatuation to Friends to Lovers, Young Adult Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:05:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thaliona/pseuds/Thaliona
Summary: Over the centuries, the God of Mischief has had his fair share of dalliances with all sorts of lovers. None of those affairs, however, have tormented him quite like his tempestuous liaison with the winged Olympian Goddess of Strife. She would ruin him, or so his lover once cautioned, but heeding warnings was never his forte.





	Mischief's Mistress

**Author's Note:**

> First, nothing happens while Loki is 'underage.' Not about that life. Also, I follow the school of thought that Asgardians (and Jotunn) age normally until they reach early adulthood. Thor & Loki are somewhere between 14-16 here. 
> 
> Second, 'OC' is up there because Eris (and Ares) is loosely based on the Marvel 616 version, but the Olympians in general are not comic-canon and neither is she. She's my 'original' take on Marvel's Eris with a heavy dose of mythology. She does have wings in the comic though. I had this idea forever ago, and forgot about it, but then IW happened (or didn't if that's how you're rolling, whatever works). So, I remembered it, and it wouldn't leave me alone. We'll see if it goes anywhere. If it does, I totally have my version of events for how Ares ended up on Sakaar. 
> 
> Feedback appreciated. It's not thoroughly edited. I really just wanted to get it out of my head because I should be studying for the Bar.

Weeks had gone into the preparation for the arrival of their once bitter enemies. Ages had passed since last the Olympian royal family graced the halls of Asgard. Very few even remembered the days when the two peoples only met when breaking through lines of soldiers instead of breaking bread together at a celebratory feast. And yet, a nervous energy lurked beneath the excited preparation. The former brutality of the Olympians may have been glossed over in the history books, but the message between the carefully crafted rewriting of the past belayed enough for the truth to flicker through the veneer of pleasantries.

In the height of their power, the Olympian empire had stretched across galaxies (not unlike their beloved Romans’s accomplishment on Midgard). No small feet for a relatively small realm nestled in a pocket dimension. The secret of their dominion lay in their mastery of dark magic and their utterly brutal war tactics. It was well known that the Olympians were fiercely relentless and maliciously clever.

Zeus begot his greatest weapons in the bedchamber. Ares and Eris, his legitimate children, formed two halves of his war triumvirate completed by Athena, one of his many bastards. Together, they had orchestrated the destruction of entire cities and subjugation of countless peoples at the order of their beloved father. Of the trio, the half-forgotten memories of hateful Eris still lingered strong enough to induce fear. 

If threats of the Frost Giants did not chasten a naughty child, instilling the fear of being carried off by winged Strife would certainly do the trick.

One tutor in particular, who was far too ancient to still be teaching, had been fond of this threat whenever Loki proved too clever. It wasn’t the young prince’s fault that the tutor couldn’t keep up with his wit. All the jokes had been harmless – mostly. So really, the berating was never deserved. However, it did prove to be most educational in terms of learning about the Olympian goddess.

According to his tutor, Eris had mighty wings that could cause maelstrom winds and the lower body of an eagle. Clawed feet included. It was with these talons that she would swoop down to carry him off back to Olympus to eat out his tongue. 

She never did, of course, and Loki didn’t believe she actually had the lower body of a bird. Or fangs. Or claws. Or even wings. Loki severely doubted his tutor claim that he fought against her in the ancient Asgardian-Olympian Wars. Even if it was true, neither his father nor his mother had ever mentioned talons or claws. It seemed like the sort of thing someone would give a warning about if only for proprieties sake. 

Now that he and his brother had breached their adolescent years – albeit barely – the young princes were expected to play a more active role in courtly life. Their mother would have given a warning to keep Thor from staring, and then Thor would have told him. Without a doubt, Loki knew he would able to maintain a courteous composure, but he could already picture Thor gaping open-mouthed at the Olympian princess if she really did have the lower half of a bird. It was an amusing thought if not for the fact it could potentially spark a war. 

Not that he believed his tutor, but supposedly, the Olympians all had short fuses and would pick a fight over the mildest slight. Merciless. Treacherous. Rabble. _Animals_ , his tutor had called them in a hot moment that made Loki almost believe the ancient man really had fought against them. Useful animals, Loki had offered at the time, noting that they had been allies during several of Asgard’s wars after the Peace Treaty of Symmachos. His tutor had only grunted and warned him not to repeat it again. 

Naturally, Loki repeated the conversation to his mother and asked if it was true that Eris had bird legs. 

Rather swiftly, Loki desperately wished he could have sucked back the words into his mouth and choked on them. The look of utter disappointment on Frigga’s face cowed him into a waterfall of apologies. Unbeknownst to him until that very moment, Frigga held the Olympian queen in high regard and considered Hera a dear friend. Those feelings of warmth extended to Hera’s daughter as well, despite Eris’ troublemaking inclinations. Whatever battles occurred between their husbands did not seem to deter their companionship. Some of the very magic that Frigga had shared with her son had been taught to her by the older matron goddess.

Subsequently, Loki never saw the offending tutor again. The incident had occurred years earlier, and Loki forgot about Eris’ supposed bird features or vicious nature. 

Latent curiosity had begun to bubble again with the impending arrival of the Olympians. He started to wonder if there had been any truth to his old tutor’s words. This time, Loki knew better than to ask his mother any question that could be construed to be insulting. Instead, he tried to glean any useful information from open-ended questions about her friendship with the infamously jealous queen. So far, there hadn’t been anything too noteworthy. His father was even less forthcoming about anything salacious about the Olympians. The past was the past, and they were peaceful kings now.

Conversations with Thor on the matter devolved rapidly into whether or not he could beat Ares in one-on-one combat. Less than a month had passed since Thor first sprouted the sparse stubble that might one day form a beard, and he already thought he could take on a seasoned god of war. It was baffling but not entirely surprising.

At last, the much-anticipated day arrived. Throngs of people crowded the streets of the city trying to catch a glimpse of the almost-fabled Olympians as they would make their way from the space docks to palace. The Einherjar were out in full force as well, spears and armor a gleam, in theory to keep the crowds calm, but Loki knew it was a display of their military prowess for Odin’s ‘old friend.’ The hatchet may be buried between them but that didn’t mean it would stay buried forever. Let them see the might of the Asgard to remind them they’d been replaced as the supreme military force across the galaxies. 

The atmosphere rippled and opened with a flash to reveal a small fleet of surprisingly sleek and ornate ships. Loki had expected something more antiquated. They couldn’t possibly be as advanced as the Asgardians. Their time of relevancy had passed or else why would they have let their empire fall? Asgard held the Nine Realms, but Olympus no longer held any domain beyond their small pocket dimension. 

Cheers erupted as the ships drew near, and music began to play when they landed. Thor had been complaining earlier about all this pomp and circumstance. He didn’t understand the importance of demonstrating their grandness. Even now, his brother seemed mildly bored. Their mother had new formal attire made for the occasion. Much to Loki’s dismay, she hadn’t forced Thor to shave his pathetic spattering of stubble. He looked rather ridiculous, but at least Loki was a presentable prince. Like usual. Not that it would matter if the Olympians were as barbaric as he’d been lead to belief by everyone except his mother. Of the family, Frigga was the most genuinely excited. Loki sensed his father was apprehensive about the visit. It was easier to call an old enemy an ally from afar and not across a feasting table where wounds could be easily reopened.

Finally, Loki was about to catch his first glimpse of the source of the excitement, but the visiting royals took their sweet time unloading from the ship. Their Amazonian guard poured out first, glittering gold in their armor, before fanning out to allow for Zeus and his family to make their grand entrance. 

At the center of the party, Zeus linked arms with his queen in a seemingly loving pose. Hera surveyed the crowds with dignified nonchalance. A comely woman even in her later years, for sure, and it was no wonder why Zeus pursued her so ardently in her youth despite the consequences. However, even the cow-eyed queen was a hag compared to the shining woman standing besides the crippled Prince Hephaestus. Aphrodite, Lust Herself, languidly waved to the crowd as if they were all there just for her. Even Loki had to admit she was appealing, if one was into every cliché of beauty imaginable sculpted together. Despite recently discovering a physical desire for others, Loki could keep his hormones in check – unlike his brother, who, much to Loki’s embarrassment, was ogling the princess consort as if he’d never seen a woman before.

Besides, he was more interested in Strife than Lust.

Lurking in the shadow of War, Eris surveyed the crowd apathetically. Ares towered over even his father and dwarfed his sister, making her easy to miss. Like her mother, she wore a near-translucent veil pinned to a golden laurel headdress that partially obscured the elaborate braids of chestnut hair coiling to the back of her head. Her only other ornament was a golden girdle fashioned into interlocking feathers that cinched her waist and gave some silhouette to the otherwise unshapely cream-colored stola. Not even Hera dressed so plainly in her attempt to portray the virtuous matron. Grim-faced Ares came in as a close second to his plain-dressed sister, but at least his garments appeared to have some form of embroidery. 

As they drew near, Loki hoped Eris would grow more formidable, but she remained disappointingly unassuming. This was the fearsome Eris? Was he really supposed to believe that she had destroyed cities and conquered entire planets? She had the stature of a child, not some bloodthirsty berserker! While her mother was a handsome woman, the same could not be said of Eris. Large eyes clashed garishly with a sharp – almost beaked – nose, and full lips only exaggerated the hollowness of her cheeks. If Eris really was a shape-shifter, it seemed unlikely to him that she’d keep her natural nose. 

So lost in his study of the Goddess of Strife, Loki missed the general introductions and only a swift elbow to the rib from Thor brought him back to reality. His father cast a rueful glance whereas his mother only looked mildly flustered. Apparently, his staring had not been discrete enough to go by unnoticed, and worse still, Loki could not untie the knots in his not-yet-silver tongue. As Odin apologized for his son’s behavior, Zeus bellowed a laugh that rumbled like thunder as Loki’s cheeks brightened with embarrassment. Whatever conversation followed fell on burning ears as Loki slowly trailed after his mother as the royal families fell behind their patriarchs in the march back to the palace.

The crowds continued to cheer, and music continued to play, but Loki heard none of it. He was too consumed by his failure at being a dignified prince to enjoy the moment. Even Thor had been mindful enough to participate in the proper protocol. Thor! Who was currently trying to flirt with Aphrodite. A married woman. A married guest. Idiot. Idiot…but even Thor had been able to keep his wits about him, and was even being humorous enough to make the princess consort laugh a honeyed giggle.

“I’ve never cared much for ceremonious pomp either, Prince Loki.” 

A soothing voice interrupted his moody ruminating. Hephaestus limped along next to him, surprisingly quick for a man needing a cane. The Olympian prince offered a warm smile that reached kind eyes. How a sibling like Hephaestus could follow a brother like Ares and a sister like Eris was an absolute wonder. Despite his best efforts to hold onto his anger, Loki felt himself softening under the gentle prince’s attention. Hephaestus was wrong, of course. Loki loved ceremony and pomp, but he didn’t correct the assumption. 

“I did not mean any offense,” He kept his tone even and puffed out his chest in what he thought was a display of regality. Loki pointedly decided against expanding on what he thought might have caused offense. 

Hephaestus chuckled in response to the peacockery but didn’t comment on the behavior. “If you mean my sister, I would not worry. She is very accustomed to causing commotions at gatherings.”

“They cannot be true though...” Loki forgot for a moment that he was pretending to be more than just a curious youth and talking to the object of his fascination’s sibling. “The stories, I mean. She doesn’t even wings.” He dropped his voice to a hush whisper at the mention of her wings, completely abandoning his feint of playing at dignitary.

Bushy brows lurched up, wrinkling Hephaestus’ forehead as a genuinely bemused grin split his face in two. “Ah, but, young prince, she does have wings.”

Loki stared up at Hephaestus in disbelief before daring to glance ahead at wingless Eris, who was thankfully out of earshot and chatting lightly with his mother and Hera. She was but a little thing. Hardly a threat. Scarcely a menace. Could it all just be an illusion? A brilliant, convincing illusion…

“I wish to see them.”

Hephaestus only laughed again before deftly changing the subject. Loki played along, dropping the topic of Strife’s wings, but still, his mind churned as he made a silent vow to see through Strife’s illusions no matter how long it took.


End file.
